


That Darn Cat

by hbomba



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Comedy, F/F, Fluff, Fridget, Lesbian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-17 17:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18103187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hbomba/pseuds/hbomba
Summary: Franky and Bridget enjoy a night in, but Bridget’s cat has other plans.





	That Darn Cat

**Author's Note:**

> This presumes Bridget really did have a cat to feed when she left Vera's office in 4x1 but this takes place well after 6x3.

* * *

 

Never try to outstubborn a cat.―Robert A. Heinlein

* * *

 

“Fuck!” Franky hollered, tripping down the hall. “Gidget, call off the cat, will ya?”

“What’s he done now?” Bridget called from the other room.

Bridget’s black and white tuxedo cat raced into the room, Franky tripping in after him. “I reckon he’s trying to kill me off.”

Bridget snickered, the dastardly cat having jumped into her lap to receive its strokes. “C’mon babe, it’s an adjustment for him, too.”

“You seriously aren’t taking the cat’s side of things, are ya?”

The cat reached up and touched Bridget’s cheek. She blinked at Franky. “He does have a point.”

“I never knew someone so closely bonded with their cat before.”

“While this surely isn’t the time for a cat in lieu of pussy joke, I’m going for it anyways--you have dated other lesbians, yeah?”

Franky smiled and shook her head. “Oh, look at you! Suddenly you’re Queen Lezzie.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Bridget leaned back on the couch with the cat. Franky could hear him purring from across the room as if to rub it in a little more that it was him sitting on her lap and not Franky. “Babe, I’m sorry but we’re just going to have to work through this. Boots isn’t going anywhere anytime soon and I hope the same of you.”

Franky sighed and plopped down next to Bridget and her beloved feline. He looked at her with disdain. “Does he always have that shitty look on his face?”

“Just when you’re around.” Bridget smirked.

Franky put her feet up on the coffee table and her arm around Bridget’s shoulders. The cat flicked his ears at her. “Has he always been this possessive?”

“To be honest, there hasn’t been anyone who I’ve invited over more than once or twice in the past few years.”

The brunette grinned. “So I’m special, yeah?”

“As if you have to ask.” Bridget smiled in that soft way she did when only Franky was around.

“Well, puss puss, you’re just gonna have to deal with me, then.” Franky scritched Boots’ chin but the cat never took his eyes off her. “Ugh. Why is he staring at me?”

“I don’t know… Maybe he doesn’t trust you yet, maybe he’s learning your habits and mannerisms, maybe he’s curious about what you’re doing to me when we close him out of the bedroom...”

“Definitely the last one.” Grinning, Franky waved a hand in the air. “Let’s do that now.”

“Mmm,” Bridget hummed. “That sounds nice.” Boots squeezed his eyes at her as she continued to pet him.

“You know you have to set him down, right?”

“Impatient tonight, aren’t you?” She smirked, ruffling Boots’ fur before setting him beside her. He immediately climbed back in her lap.

Franky grumbled. “You’ve won this round, ya bastard.”

Retreating to the bedroom, Franky flopped onto the bed face first, her long legs pointing to the end of the bed. It was a Tuesday night and it was early. Bridget and Boots were quite the pair, Franky never had a steady girlfriend with a pet. Before prison she ran with a wilder crowd, impulsive and young with no time for the responsibility of a animal. Working in kitchens, Franky herself never had time for a pet either. Sixty-hour-work-weeks piled up really fast and she didn’t dare have a dog that needed to be walked or a cat that needed to be fed. And before all of that was her fucked up childhood and in retrospect she was glad she didn’t have a pet when she was a kid. God only knows what her mother would have done to it.

Franky sighed and flipped over onto her back. A breeze blew over her carrying the sweet scent of Bridget’s perfume with it. Placing her hands behind her head, she smiled at the ceiling. When the bed depressed next to her she reached out for Bridget and instead found the warm fur of Boots.

“What the--?” Franky sat up to find the feline beside her. “Come to rub it in, did ya?” Exhaling she flopped onto her back again.

“He likes you,” Bridget said from the doorway.

“Yeah, I’d like him more if he’d quit getting between us,” Franky said to the ceiling, petting her nemesis.

The floor creaked as she walked closer. “It’s just his way of saying, ‘don’t forget about me.’”

“Are you sure you’re not a cat psychologist?”

“They are a lot like people, with their own personalities and objectives.”

“Like getting between his owner and her hot girlfriend.”

Franky looked up at Bridget as she lifted the cat from the bed, he began to purr almost immediately. “Such a suck.” It was unclear if she was talking about Franky or the cat. She scratched his jowls, smiling down at Franky before turning and returning to the bedroom’s entryway. She set Boots outside the threshold and shut the door.

With eyebrows raised, Franky watched the psychologist walk towards her in that extravagant way Bridget had, hips swinging, she wore a confident grin as she strode towards the bed. She was delicious. Franky had been with her fair share of women, but Bridget was in a whole other class from the women of her past.

And being with her had made Franky a better woman, too. Her guidance had lit the way out of Wentworth. Her love had infused Franky with a vibrance for life on the outside that was masked for so long by the years inside. And her kindness had demonstrated that there were good people in the world when she had so few of them in her life.

The mattress sunk beside her again but this time it really was her lover. Bridget leaned into Franky and kissed her softly. “He won’t bother you anymore tonight.”

Just then, a guttural yowl echoed from the hallway. Groaning, Franky put a hand on her face. “What a shit.”

Bridget laughed. “He’ll get over it,” she said leaning down to kiss Franky again.

Another yowl.

“Piss off!” Franky howled back.

Bridget sat back and peered down at the brunette. “Baby, be reasonable.”

“I don’t even live here anymore. I just wanna spend time with ya.” Franky sighed.

Bridget smiled softly. “What are we doing now?”

Eyes wide, Franky spoke again. “Naked time.” A paw slid under the door and rattled it softly. Franky groaned. “For fuck’s sake.”

“You’re not much of an animal person, yeah?”

“I’m not much of a people person either, Gidge.”

“I guess I’m just one of the lucky ones,” Bridget leaned over her again. “Are you going to keep pouting or are we going to spend some time togeth--?”

Franky leaned up and kissed her before she could finish. It was a playfully rough kiss and Bridget fell into her, bracing herself on the pillows behind Franky’s head.

The door rattled again.

“I can’t concentrate with him trying to break down the door.”

“I can let him in to watch, if you’d rather that.”

“What options,” Franky said sarcastically. She sighed. “Let him in.”

“As you wish.”

Bridget pushed off the pillows and stood, crossing to the door she put her hand on the doorknob. “You sure?”

She could hear Boots howling in the bathroom. “I have never been less sure of anything in my life.”

She twisted the doorknob and opened the door slowly, Boots’ black and white face poke through the crack between the door and the doorframe. He pushed through the opening and ran into the room, his eyes darting around the bedroom.

Franky leaned up on her arm. Boots’ tail lifted and curled casually as he strolled to the side of the bed. “Bloody cat,” she grumbled.

Franky sat up, taking notice as a smiling Bridget began unbuttoning her shirt. Kicking off her shoes, Bridget sashayed towards the bed again as she unzipped her skirt. When the skirt hit the floor and the shirt flapped open, Franky had forgotten about the cat that sat in the chair beside the bed even existed. Bridget’s palms came to rest on the side of Franky’s face as Franky’s hands found her bare waist. Bridget’s eyes shined with such love and Franky didn’t take it for granted. Never in her life had someone gone out on a limb for her like Bridget and, in all honesty, nothing less would have satisfied Franky, who had been a victim of the system her entire life.

But there Bridget was, putting her job, her career, and her free life on the line for Franky in the span of a few months. Bridget loved her like no other had before and Franky trusted her more than she thought her brokenness would ever let her. And it was a total bonus that she was hot as fuck, and a great root.

Bridget climbed onto the bed, shrugging out of her shirt, leaving her gloriously bare in her black panties and bra. It would have been a perfect shining moment if not for the cat noisily licking himself in the chair beside the bed. Franky turned her head to glare at Boots and Bridget pulled her chin back toward her with a lithe finger.

“Forget about it.”

Franky licked her lips. “Yeah.”

Bridget kissed her then, stealing her breath and making her wet all in one fell swoop. Pulling at Franky’s top, the psychologist stripped it over her head and kissed her again. Franky frantically unbuttoned her jeans and shimmied them over her hips, kicking them off eagerly. Moving down her body slowly, Bridget was soon pulling Franky’s underwear over her hips. She leaned up and kissed Bridget’s cleavage, reaching behind her and unfastening her bra with ease.

Bridget held her face again for a moment and Franky closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of her cool hands. She had come to crave her touch--reassuring and reaffirming her free life. When her eyes opened, Bridget’s were shining back at her.

“I fuckin’ love ya.” Franky smiled at her.

Smiling, she pushed Franky onto her back again. “Shhh…” Bridget hushed her, inching down her body. Pushing between her legs, Bridget drew a finger across her center. Franky shivered at the sensation as her hips jumped.

“Shit,” she laughed, pressing her head back against the pillow and grinning at the ceiling.

Bridget was tender and loving and Franky honestly couldn’t believe she’d risked it all to be with an inmate, especially when she was doing that. She felt her excitement building quickly, stacking up, her breathing becoming more erratic. In the quiet of the room, Franky’s ears keyed in on the cat’s tongue slapping against its fur as it continued to lick itself.

“Oh fuck, Gidge wait.” She squeezed her eyes shut in frustration. “I can’t concentrate with him doing that.”

Bemused, Bridget leaned up on her elbow. “What do you propose I do, baby?”

Franky sighed and looked over at Boots who was staring right back at her. “I can’t,” she said irritatedly.

“He’s just cleaning himself,” she reassured.

“Gidge, I admit to not knowing people or animals as well as you seem to but he is not cleaning himself.”

“He’s a cat.” Bridget sighed and blinked up at her.

“And he’s licking himself while you’re…” She sighed. “The mental image is not a good one.” Bridget crawled up her body to lay beside her. She propped her head up on a hand, elbow pressing into the plush pillow. “It’s okay. Let’s just watch a movie or something.”

“Franky…” Bridget reached for her.

She shook her head. “It’s good. No worries.” Franky sat up and leaned toward her clothes.

“We should talk about this.” Bridget was using her psychotherapist tone now and while that was how their relationship started, Franky found the need to talk all the time fundamentally annoying.

“What’s to say? Your cat’s a pervert and you don’t seem to mind.”

Bridget chuckled. “Franky, I’m sorry. He’ll get over it eventually.”

“When? It’s been months.” She looked over at the black and white bastard that had ruined a good root. He blinked and yawned at her, laying his head down.

“I dunno. He must like butting heads with you.”

“Outstanding,” she said ironically.

Bridget exhaled. “So where are we at here?”

Sighing at the question, Franky fastened her bra. She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to mediate a cat’s desires. She wanted to finish what they started. “Get dressed Gidget,” Franky said, pulling on her pants. “We’re going to my place.”


End file.
